Elevated over a ravine, the Massassi Arena has withstood the tests of time. It is arranged in a circular formation and made by a slab of stone that connects the opposite slopes of the ravine. On its eastern side, the floating arena leads to a staircase and into a near-vertical cliff face. Because of its nearly unsupported vantage that overlooks a several hundred-meter fall, even the smallest creatures can feel the occasional motion the platform makes as the breeze brushes across its cold surface.

Adding to the adrenaline rush of standing within the slab’s concentric patterns carved into the rock, barriers and obstacles echo the Massassi’s commitment to taking every advantage over their opponents. Pillars ring the outer edge without guardrails linking them, some remaining intact and others having toppled into the arena or over the perilous heights to the ground far below. Weeds and other flora cover each surface as nature seeks to reclaim the ravine and eventually send the arena itself to the depths.

A creaky rope-bridge leads away towards another ancient suspended platform with the same weathered, upturned stones. Mossy footing, and uneven ground make each of these platforms unique in small subtle ways. While there is no seating for formal spectators, the ancient stones of the Massassi Arena hold an omniscient, aged wisdom that speak to the things they have seen and the battles fought through history.

A third rope-bridge leads to yet another platform, completing the triad of battlegrounds that make up the Massassi Arena.

It has been the most random series of events Kalen has ever experienced in sequence. And this was Kalen, the guy who had survived his entire life among a group of old republicers that had been lost in another galaxy, and who had piloted an old Republic Dreadnaught home, whilst inside the belly of an enormous Purgil. 

Long story short, Kalen had finally heard back from Zujenia about his 'Jedi Order' inquiries, and now had some concrete leads on what to look into in terms of his family history. He was a 5th generation Jedi, or so he had been told recently. It had been time to live up to his heritage.

Ruka's presence on this trip to the Massisi Arena on Kulsinor had been a product of pure chance. Kalen and him had ran across each other at the Shame Corner Service station, and after talking for a few minutes Ruka had offered to accompany Kalen on his quasi pilgrimage.

The trip up to the arena itself had been slow and somewhat arduous but I they finally arrived, both men were sort of listless amd unsure of what had brought either of them there in the first place.

“Do you sense that?” Kalen asked Ruka as they stood in the centre of the circular arena with the staircases to the front and back of them.

“The self senses it as well.” Ruka replied. Ruka was not a violent or eager warrior by any means but the coldness and encroaching darkness was unmistakable. Very dark forces had surrounded the 2 of them. For what purpose, neither knew.

2 sequential series of snap hiss sounds broke through the silence as the mist and Darkness fully took hold.

“Sorry for bringing into this…whatever this is” Kalen said to Ruka as he pulled his lightsaber into a high ready stance. Kalen's search for knowledge and meaning in his life had brought the 2 of them directly into an ambush.

Whatever this is.

Because it always had to be something, where his dreams were concerned.

Shadows coalesced into dense forms, not unlike those of wraiths or the spirits of the Ethereal Realm. Rather than loose his weapons, Ruka merely glanced between the two apparitions, willing them to rip apart. Inky mist exploded outward, akin to smoke from a bomb blast, even seeming to spatter the stairs and stones in liquid black...or blood.

"Whoa," Kalen breathed out, starting to lower his saber with that same gaping expression that had lit his features often in the brief visit during which they'd last met on Aliso, one writ with wonder for the new world, the new Galaxy, around him. "That was amazing! You've got to teach me!"

"That wasn't it," the Mirialan Master grunted back, adding, "keep your guard up, ay! I've fought kriff like this before. Physical attacks don't do much, none lightning or grenades either. They manfi...man...things, pieces of the Dark Side, like spirits, but not."

"Manifestations?" the Jedi suggested, obediently returning to his ready stance. He advanced towards the steps to investigate one streak of hissing, steaming black with a curious air. His form was perfect and smooth, feet circling as his forebearers had taught him, techniques descended from the Jedi Temples themselves. It wasn't at all like having his Jedi, his husband, at his back, but the dimmer shine of Kalen's Light was something in the same sector as comforting.

"Yeah, that. Look, c'mere, stick close to me, I been having visions, dreams. You were there. I think--"

His senses screamed, klaxons whining, and the Master leapt straight upwards, away from grasping, writhing shadows, the Force empowering his muscles as he sailed high, twisted overhead, and landed again like a falling comet. His other hand shot out, seeking to pull Kalen towards him, but a wall of darkness surged up between them, as though specifically trying to block his line of sight. Milky violet eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of shadows swirling around Kalen and yanking to drag him away, onto the next platform, even as he cut at them, clockwork motions that sliced but couldn't stop.

"KALEN!"

The wraiths around Ruka whispered and chattered.

not here for you not your test proven your courage be gone be gone be gone--

Something pushed, and the Mirialan found himself flying backwards, towards the edge and the drop below.

"KALEN!"

-x-x-x-x-

"MASTER RUKA!" the Knight shouted back, seeing the friendly Mirialan disappear into open air. He surged forward, desperate to reach the man, but found himself stopped by tarry, black waters sucking down his steps. It was as though he was suddenly sinking into a swamp. He felt his throat close, struggled harder while trying to remain calm, to recite his tenants, the lessons he'd been knighted under already. He thought of Corra, and his girlfriend's disbelief and insistence that she teach him how to swim, since he didn't know.

But the pressure only rose, the cold freezing right to his bones, and the figures reappeared, hulking and monstrous. They chanted, loud.

coward soft idiot distracted weak only here because you killed your family only knighted because you stood among imbeciles could never survive a real Trial...

"No, no!"

He couldn't fail.

Falling off the 20 foot ledge after being spun around by whatever the creepy shadow beings were, was untimely to say the least. As Kalen floundered in the murky water of the small cove below the ruins, a pack of a dozen obviously possessed and bloodthirsty Vornskyrs charged up the large long flight of stairs leading up to ancient site, right at Ruka. As they approached they began to corner the Mirialan. They were seemingly trying to prevent the man from interfering or aiding Kalen in any way.

Back in the water Kalen slipped below the surface as his armor and cloak weighed him down. As he was dragged down a few feet he thought he felt his foot rub against a rock, and then sank lower and his other foot made contact with the ocean floor. Luckily for Kalen the tide was out and the waves and wind were not as much a whirling tempest as they could have been.

Realizing he'd likely drown if he didn't get back to the surface, Kalen crouched on the sandy ocean floor, loaded up his strength and propelled himself up to the surface with all he could muster. It worked, but only just. He was able to burst up above the surface, but he didn't have enough momentum to propel himself back up to the platform he had fallen off of. He was able to grab a hold of a thick tangle of interwoven and overgrown vines with one hand. Somehow he had been able to retain his lightsaber in the other, and he swung himself back up to the platform. Seeing the pack of demonic looking Vornskyrs stalking and surrounding Ruka in the distance on the main stone hewn platform, Kalen took 2 breaths, reignited his saber, steeled himself then ran, lept, flipped, and chopped. A headless Vornskyr fell at his feet. He hadnt realized that Ruka had been in now danger and was holding the ersnged animals at bay with the force.

“What in the fluff is this all about?” he shouted as slashed at another one of the frothy mouthed canid slicing its front left leg off. The shadows swirled around him again, muttering faint whispers that Kalen could barely make out.

weak...lost…no focus…gaps in his training….lightsider…conflicted…he will a true trial 

The words weren't a part of full sentences, they were more, concepts given verbal life. Kalen felt the words as well as heard them. He intuited from that last phrase he heard, that this wasn't in fact a real trial, whatever that meant. In that moment he began to feel back for the Vornskyr he had just killed and the other he had maimed. Who was controlling them?

Blood and viscera splattered the stones.

The yelps of pain and gnashing, snarling howls choking off with the swing of a saber had Ruka clenching his jaw. His husband would have been horrified, and the animal noises reminded him of so many before them, how most Near-Humans sounded the same when they were blown to pieces too--

"Kalen, stop!" he called out, but it felt like his voice was ripped away by the shades before the words could reach. "Stop it, STOP IT, AY! It ain't they fault! Killing is a last resort--"

Was it the fear, the dread of this place that drove the Jedi? Or was this simply how he'd been taught, in his other Galaxy? That to bear a saber was to wield death?

Or perhaps Plagueis had already corrupted him so?

Ruka's blades stayed sheathed, his eyes and hands snapping this way and that as he lifted and tossed another canine away while holding others back. Their baying echoed like that in his dreams, along with the churn of water and shadow and Kalen's face swallowed up. The Jedi cut down another vornskyr, calling out.

"Someone is possessing them, controlling them! I'll find them! It's not a true Trial. Someone is messing with us."

And he went charging off, to the third and final platform.

"Kalen!" Ruka tried to shout. He wrestled away from grasping wraiths, bile rising in his throat to feel phantom touches pawing over his skin, cold sinking through his armor. "Kalen, wait for me!"

This was almost worse than his other apprentices. Almost.

Narrowing his eyes, the Mirialan focused on that third platform, the straight rise of the stairs, the fallen pillars and overgrowth. If he could just keep them together, maybe he could reach the Jedi, show him that he was being manipulated by the Dark.

For the Dark was patient, and it was generous and kind. But it would also fill every possible crevice it could, sink into any gap, and a fresh as a newborn Jedi that had grown up on a colony ship amongst fellow Jedi, who had never known Darkness, was a prime target.

Ruka knew. The Dark bent to him.

He slammed his hand down, shoving the rest of the remaining dogs away in a telekinetic wave, then focused on the platform. He fixed his half-blind eyes on one spot as the world washed out, and willed the space between to collapse, for the world to bend around him, the distance to be gone. He needed to be there.

And so he was.

His boots skipped the scruff of crumbling stone, and the Master caught himself on the pillar he nearly phased right into, palms slamming into its surface. He shoved off, breathing out, and looked around for Kalen as the shadows started gathering again, whispers rising to shouts.

"Kalen! Kalen?"

-x-x-x-x-

"Don't worry, Master Ruka, I'll free us!" The Human tossed the assurance over his shoulder as he ran, breathing hard from exertion. He raised his communicator to his face, panting, "D, have Karracca get the engines going and something for restraints ready, we've got a mystery perpetrator."

His droid beeped back and affirmative as Kalen crossed the swinging bridge, his stomach pitching wildly, but no worse than a near-crash on a starship amongst pergills. He held his saber up for light, as their surroundings had darkened with those shadows again. Whoever was playing tricks, he would stop them.

The Jedi leapt the last few feet, tucking into a roll across the ground. He dropped down behind a pillar, trying to catch his breath, spreading out his senses. Everything was mired in the Force, Dark and oppressive. Grunting, Kalen forced himself to his feet and strode into the center of the platform, lightsaber at the ready. His Code repeated in his mind. He thought of how some of his Trials had been loosely bestowed. But here he would show courage. Would show he could be just as competent in this Galaxy as he had been with his fleet, in their own little world, where he had been a Knight. Not someone others kept looking at as clueless and in need of assistance...

The thoughts crept in, swirling, whispers rising, roaring. The Jedi struggled, clinging to the words. No emotion, Peace. Serenity. Knowledge. He knew what he was doing.

A figure emerged from the shadows, trailing smoke and radiating Dark power. Kalen, palms sweat-slick, squared his stance and advanced, swinging two-handed with a cry.

His blade hit something, and unexpectedly, there was resistance and give, when a saber normally sheared through anything. A cry came, and then as he stumbled forward, thrown by encountering weight, he found himself flung back, hovering in the air and trapped. He thrashed, but couldn't move, limbs tight to his sides in an invisible hold.

"...alen! Kalen!"

Suddenly, sound poured back in. The whispering cacophony vanished, as did the darkness around them. Below him, Ruka stood in the sunlight that washed over the treetops, his pale eyes wide and blood on his neck and chin. For a moment Kalen thought the vornskyrs had wounded him, but it didn't look like a bite. It looked like--

Burnt collar edges. Burnt edges on the bleeding cut. A saber wound.

There was blood on Kalen's hands and soaked clothes, both animal and Ruka's.

Slowly, the Mirialan lowered his arm. Kalen touched back down, heaving, and collapsed as his body was released from its binding. Ruka reached up to his golden cowl, gripping it where it wrapped around his neck and head. His hand was shaking.

"If this wasn't...you would have killed me, Kalen," he said. "Kalen. You would have killed me, and you just went right through them vornskyrs, and-- listen. It's the Dark. I can feel it in you. Worse than before. What did Furious and them do to you?"

"I..." Kalen looked to his saber on the ground, also bloodied, and had no answer. "I...I don't know, Master."

And despite Ruka's rather vehement accusation, he didn't think his Clan had much to do with it, either.

The whispers that had been impressions solidified in his mind.

Not ready, gaps in his training, not ready to hold a lightsaber, unworthy of it, unworthy of a real Trial, conflicted, lost, unfocused, but you can be molded, make you not weak, strong, you can be strong again.

"Master Ruka..." Kalen looked up, then bowed his head. "I think... I'm so sorry, I think I need to meditate on this."

"You'll need to do more than that," Ruka muttered, rubbing at his burned throat, a sharp, condemning look on his face. His eyes creased though after a moment to make sure it sunk in. "Listen, Kalen. If you face the Dark, you can control it, but it is dangerous and it will always be dangerous. Don't go down that path if you can't come back from it, or you will hurt not just you but everybody around you. And then I'll have to stop you, hung in the air. "You don't got to do it alone though. You can stand together with the Light. You can be the Light. But you're...ay, you need more training. A lot more. I don't mean just the Force. I mean discipline."

"Yeah...yeah, I do."

Ruka offered him a hand, and Kalen took it, rising. They watched the ship pull up, hovering and making the bridges sway so much they'd surely rip free. The remaining vornskyrs had long since scattered.

The pair left the trial grounds, the old stones sated by the spill of blood.